


Only Autumn

by CaitClandestine



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: It's all a bit vague, M/M, Maybe a bit of implied Logan/Charles/Erik in there too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7918978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaitClandestine/pseuds/CaitClandestine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan finds Charles in his private hideaway and Charles is very definitely not as cold as everyone seems to think he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> They played one of the X-Men movies on TV and I was intrigued, watched them all and this happened also the spellcheck corrected bub to boob and that was pretty fun

It's late. Late enough that the majority of the children are sleeping – but not all, and Charles has learnt not to bear too much thought into any late night activities that don't a bring with them a general sensation of something he should be concerned about, though he has since made a point to hire a very capable teacher specifically to cover the birds and the bees, as they say. 

He retains his almost-attic bedroom, sets steadfast rules that no one is allowed in unless someone is actively dying but permits door-knocking at any hour for any good reason, has converted the small office space next door into a waypoint of sorts and often he finds himself listening to small voices reciting nightmares, older ones with far more tangible fears. He's not terribly good with comfort but finds that most things can be resolved with soft words, gentle reality and a barley sugar from the novelty pineapple shaped jar that Hank had bought at a yard sale for seemingly no other reason than the fact that he well knows Charles hates pineapple.

Tonight however, past even the time that the usual suspects would be timidly pausing outside his door and wondering whether to knock he's still in his library, a little nook beside his bedroom that's only accessible through an admittedly cliché vaguely-secret bookshelf sliding door (Vaguely-secret because Charles is aware that some of his students are entirely too curious and his friends even more so) and it's here he keeps his most prized pieces of literature, along with a few well worn and treasured titles, things that are of little educational merit for the students and that he would rather prefer didn't get accidentally burnt or frozen or torn into a thousand tiny pieces.

His library is a hiding place of sorts, the floorboards smothered in thick, plush rugs and what he supposes would be considered a nest right in the middle, a circle sunk into the floor with a memory foam mattress and an abundance of pillows and throws, shelves half-height and the tops of them filled with assorted knick-knacks from errant notes to some of his parents antiques that should probably be somewhere even safer, a little more regularly dusted. 

More often than not he'll spend the night – partly because it seems more comfortable than his own bed despite being the exact same type of mattress and because it's an effort to get in and out as the rugs catch the wheels of his chair so he leaves it at the door, employs a more energy-efficient roll across the room, pulling himself into a blissful bookworms cocoon. As long as he sets an alarm a bit earlier to factor in the extra minutes he'll need to make it to the bathroom in the morning it's not an issue.

He's been well settled for a few hours now, flipping through a series of landscape photobooks Erik had brought back for him, as much as a peace offering the man will ever make. Logan had been there when he'd been presented with them, barely holding back the variety of snarky comments forming in his mind. Later, Charles had taken him aside and tried to explain that it's not as cruel a gift as he seems to think, books filled of pictures of places that he couldn't make it to without substantial planning and difficulty (Though if he asked Charles is sure Erik would levitate him just about anywhere, but it's a favour he's saving for something far more important than travelling to the Alps)

Both men are absent from the house, have been for weeks now and even Hank had admitted to missing their constant posturing and imposing presences. Several of the children are particularly fond of the Wolverine, not least because of his rather impressive ability to do the voices when he reads to them – a fact that not even the most daring of students dares mock and Erik well, study periods are taken very seriously when Charles can convince him to supervise.

They're not travelling together of course, different jobs in different directions and it's not ignorance on Charles part that he pointedly doesn't ask where they're going, what those jobs are. He knows what both men are capable of, the unfinished business that they chase and are followed by in turn. He trusts that they'll both return with due diligence paid to his stance on bystanders and the innocent. 

He must doze off, one hand folded outside the blanket that's now nearly frozen and for a moment he's unsure what's woken him, the room dark and still beyond the light of his reading lamp, nothing immediately pressing on his mind as he checks through the house. Hank may or may not be dreaming about miniature planes designed entirely to distribute soda, Raven is dreamless as always and Logan is – Logan is home apparently and Charles must be far more tired than he thought for him to get all the way up to this floor before he noticed. He'd say he's not paranoid about being caught unawares these days but his sleeping patterns beg to differ.

Unlike Erik, Logan hasn't warmed as much to Charles even so much as catching his topmost of thoughts, even if he can't really help it like now he's still half-asleep _fucking freezing up here does he think he's saving money by not heating only this floor/he owns a damn castle money clearly isn't the issue/kids better not have eaten all the barley sug_ \- out, Charles.

It's still intriguing as how Logan know he's there, even if he's not trying his hardest to remain unnoticed.

The words are like cold water and Charles starts a little, tries to urge himself into wakefulness. _Sorry, tired_ he replies hesitantly, _refilled the jar yesterday_ he adds, Logan's affection for the sweets will likely outweigh his irritation that he technically hasn't vacated the premises immediately. He can hear the thuds of Logan's boots coming up the last of the stairs, and the sense of satisfaction of finding the pineapple jar indeed full.

There's no heat because he can't stand the idea of having strangers in his most private spaces installing it. 

Usually Logan leaves it there, takes a handful and disappears down to his quarters, a tiny box of a room that had once been overflow Christmas decoration storage and Charles thinks it's hardly a fitting space but has never pressed the issue, happy that Logan has deigned to stay in the first place and not – taking a leaf from Alex's thoughts, built himself a cabin in the forest out back or be hiding in a cave in Alaska. 

Tonight though, _drinks, bub?_

_Sideboard, top left shelf not Erik's, please_

He can feel Logan's smirk without even trying. Erik prefers if his vintage scotch is only 'appreciated' by himself and Charles. A perfectly good set of iron bookends had been ruined the last time Erik had caught Logan taking a swig straight out of the bottle. 

There's shuffling, the clinking of glasses and still encased in his toasty blankets Charles entirely forgets that he'd closed the bookshelf-door behind him, is still hidden.

It takes Logan a while to notice his non-presence. Given the late hour and the nature of seeking out both alcohol and company Charles gives him the benefit of the doubt that the older man thinks he's in the bathroom but is too polite to mention such a thing.

“Charles?” His voice is rough, with a curious lilt at the end, “Do you need a moment?”

Given Logan's propensity for impatience it's essentially an honour to be offered such politeness. Charles knows that there are very, very few people to which such an honor is afforded and while it's just as likely Logan will say something crude and vulgar in the next breath a warmth settles in his gut all the same.

“Merely settled for the night in my private library” He calls out, “I think you'll find the copy of Pride and Prejudice most interesting”

So his vaguely-secret room has a completely unoriginal book pull. You just can't mess with the classics.

There's only two bookshelves in his room so it seems superfluous to provide anymore direction than that and soon enough the door clicks, slides and Logan appears in the doorway which being original, the top comes dangerously close to the top of his head. Hardly a problem for himself, but Erik has been an unfortunate victim more than once. 

He watches Logan survey the room and him with merely a raised eyebrow and Charles can't help but shift to be sitting up more, suddenly worried that perhaps this isn't the kind of situation Logan would like to be involved in and how this seems far more personal than any other situation they've been in is laughable. 

“Hiding, Professor?” Logan says after a long silence, striding across the room and leaning down to present him with a glass with slightly more than could be considered a nightcap, but by now Charles is used to people having no actual concept of standard drinks. 

They've no ice – another thing that Erik has found time to protest about but it hardly matters, the lack of heating as such has made the glasses cool and the Scotch crisp all the same and Charles takes a sip as Logan pours himself another, staring down at him and oh, yes.

“Quiet nights are hard to come by” He says slowly, “And who am I to resist the lure of a book or two?”

Logan's only response is to pull a barley sugar from his jacket pocket, unwrap it and then commit the ultimate sin, loudly crunching it into smithereens and Charles cannot help his cringe, which earns him a smirk in person this time.

He notices Logan's not wearing his boots anymore, just olive green socks that could do with replacing, still in the jeans and thick jacket he'd left with.

“How was the trip?” He finds himself asking despite knowing that both he and Logan know he doesn't want to know. 

Logan humors him anyway. 

“Business as usual, met some people, discussed a few things”

If there's one thing Logan and Erik have in common it's how little time they have for discussion. Charles gathers his books, folding the one on Ireland closed and stacking them together before reaching behind him to put them up onto the floor, attempts to straighten the tangle of blankets he's found himself in.

“You can sit, if you like” He offers, unsure of whether Logan intends to stay and continue committing crimes against candy or down his drink and leave, a question that he barely finishes considering before Logan is stepping down into the dropped floor and bending to sit at the end of the bed, foam shaping under his enhanced weight – on the rare occasion he allows the students to practice their moves on him they're always puzzled by just how heavy Logan is and when the other man doesn't make any attempt to strike up further conversation it's all Charles can do to pointedly stay out of his head, concentrate on what's in front of him. 

Logan smells like cigarettes and well, dirt. Nice dirt it could be said, freshly turned and earthy, his hair windswept into every conceivable direction as he pulls another sugar from his pocket, begins to unwrap it.

“You sleep in here, or?”

“By coincidence or design it does seem more comfortable than my own bed on occasion” Charles says, trying very hard to avoid any insinuation he might hide away in here or simply be too exhausted and in pain to make the effort to leave because Logan is strangely intuitive, has a knack for being able to pinpoint peoples motives exactly, a trait that Charles is aware must have come at a high price.

Logan crunches methodically and takes another sip of his drink, “Not exactly the warmest”

Everyone is entirely too invested in the state of heating on this floor.

“It's autumn” He replies mildly, “The house is warm enough” There's always the fireplace in the common room if need be, the large leather recliner one of the few luxuries he's bought for himself.

Logan snorts, apparently amused.

“Tits on a moose'd be cold up here Chuck, snowing already up on the border”

The other mans words create a mental picture that really doesn't sit well and as much as he wants to make it very clear that Logan needs to back off, point out that he is not a child and is entirely capable of deciding whether or not his room is too cold just as he would if it were anyone else – he can't. Along with the proffered politeness, tits on a moose not withstanding, Logan doesn't exactly do caring like most people. Charles once watched him inform a crying student that it'd make less of mess if he swallowed the blood from his bleeding nose instead of dripping it all over the floor. 

“I have an electric blanket in my room” He concedes gently, gotten mostly at Raven's urging, something about being concerned he won't know how cold half of him is until it might be too late – and it's the love and affection he has for her he doesn't contradict her argument entirely with medical science and the fact that it's never going to be that cold in Westchester ever. That and the blanket is kind of lovely. It's not even technically winter yet, still a few weeks to go.

Logan pours himself a third drink, downs it in one smooth movement.

“Getting late” He says and you don't need to be a college graduate to read between the lines. Logan clearly expects him to be heading off to bed like he's a student and not the man in charge.

Mildly miffed, Charles takes a moment to think of an appropriate reply.

“I believe I may retire here” Politeness seeps from his tone no matter how hard he tries to curb it and it doesn't take a mind reader to note the change in Logan's body, the way the older man stiffens just a touch. Far too many people are involved in his bedtime routines these days.

Charles waits for whatever it is that Logan's going to come out with as he turns his head, dark eyes staring at him intently.

“Alright” Logan says eventually, “Right now?”

A quick consult of the sound-disabled by aesthetically pleasing cuckoo clock on the wall confirms that it's well past even the latest time he tries to sleep on a school night so Charles nods, silently appreciating that Logan isn't going to try and strong-arm him into sleeping in his own bed.

He lets the other man collect his glass from him, stacking them together with a soft clink as he stands up and collects the bottle as well, clearing a space on his other-other desk and he looks to have every intention of leaving, heading to his own room and doing whatever it is exactly that the legendary Wolverine does before bed. (An image of Logan ironing his pyjamas springs to mind but he keeps the thought to himself, thinks that perhaps Logan would not appreciate him knowing that his bedclothes of choice are less plaid and more paisley)

Except, Logan isn't leaving. He's across the room by the door for a moment but merely ends up turning off the entire powerboard his lamps are connected too, apparently unwilling to negotiate the careful art of the antique tap-touch lights that Erik is strangely fond of, had spent many an hour carefully shaping and repairing them into usefulness after finding them in the basement before he's back by Charles side, pulling at the blankets as if he means to tuck him in for the night in a strange, misplaced sense of caring.

Charles doesn't immediately protest just watches with a delayed sense of curiosity until Logan clears his throat and gently – very gently pushes him over a little bit and Charles has to break his silence.

“Logan” He says, unable to stop the undignified rise of his voice on the second syllable, _what on earth are you doing?_

It's entirely obvious that Logan is trying to climb into the bed beside him but Charles's brain just can't process why. 

_It's been a long trip and i'll be damned if metalboy ruins it with his bitching about letting you freeze in his majesties absence_


End file.
